


A Life Matters

by Anonymous



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10184588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Captain Fareeha Amari reminisces about her time in Afghanistan and reunion with Angela. Begins a few months before "Recall".Comments are appreciated. Maybe someone could give me an idea for something more informative to put here; I've got nothing.





	1. Touchdown

**I** arrived in southwestern Afghanistan as fall broke and winter began. Helix Security had decided to pad their profits with a touch of charity work; from the lack of personnel it was obvious they were also doing their best to cut corners wherever possible. I tried to avoid thinking about their motives or asking too many questions - though one refused to be shaken. How big of a write off was a life?

 

After taking possession of the shipment, and my own belongings, I came face to face with my contact. He was a local by the name of Aaron. The first thing I noticed about him were the scars on his arms; burns and ragged cuts, long since healed. Everything else was covered up by a simple white shirt and matching pants, both hanging loose around his form. We locked eyes and he spoke a few words in English, “Are you Captain Amari?” I gave a nod and let him continue, “Let us get the payload in motion.”

 

We loaded his vehicle without exchanging further words. The hovering truck’s antigrav emitters whined from years of use, matching the peeling paint and dented doors. He finally broke the silence as I sat down in the passenger seat, “We’re heading a few klicks southeast. The trip should be no more than two hours. Any questions before we move out?” A small shake of my head later we were on our way out of the city.

 

It was around noon when we started off and the winds were picking up. I could see a sandstorm on the horizon and was hoping to arrive before it did. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen one on approach; looming over the desert like a great wall. Shifting in my seat I pulled the hood of my grey sweatshirt up. Sighing and leaning back into the stiff seat as I buried my hands in the center pocket to keep them warm.

 

I spent the time reminiscing about my past. The weight of my fatigues; the smell of oil and cordite in my nostrils. I missed my army days as a time when my assignments were simpler. No need to worry what my employer had to gain from my work or that I might be sold up the river for a quick buck. My old CO had warned me when I’d gotten the offer from Helix, “You’ll sell them everything you are, not just your skills.”

 

He was right, but I cursed him out all the same. I’d grown tired of my meager salary and crowded living space; exasperated with new recruits who didn’t know a firing pin from a safety. There were good things about my service: drinks with my squad, the women my uniform attracted, and the way civvies looked at me. I was proud of the colors I wore then; now I had started to hate the blue and gold of my uniform. Looking in the mirror made me unea-. My train of thought was cut off by a sudden stop that tossed me forward into the seatbelt. Aaron’s deep voice reaching me, “We’re here. Help me unload the bed of the truck.” My fingers released the belt and I dropped into the sand.

  
Originally the camp was supposed to be temporary, just a collection of tents in the desert to shelter those displaced by the Omnics, but after years of being stuck there, they just... got trapped in routine. It grew and grew, people rebuilding their lives in the shifting sands of Registan. Their defenses were simple, scrapped parts forming posts to hold up tanned leather, not really meant to push back a force, instead built to hold off the relentless dunes that threatened to overtake what little they had. A few posts were placed around the edges, each with their own lookout. I didn't get much of a good look before the vehicle jerked to a stop, Aaron turning around to face me from the front seat. “Out. Your things too. I will return when the weather allows. Good luck.” Then I was left in the desert as he sped away. A large bag of personal effects, an equally sized suitcase, and a crate stamped with the HSI logo on a handcart my only belongings.


	2. New Place, Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second arrival and a reunion with the good doctor.

The civilians welcomed me with smiles and even a few cheers, though I quickly realized that it wasn’t me that they were happy to see, but the supplies I'd brought. The crowd wasn't ragged, they all looked well fed, but by the way they looked at me they didn’t get many visitors. A sea of beards and mostly clean, heavily repaired clothing stood before me, surrounding their new arrival. There were those who were holding small, handmade crafts shouting offers, the ones who took it upon themselves to introduce the camp, and then those with their hands on weapons. The armed ones gradually herded the others away as I stood by the entrance, frozen in indecision. It didn't take long for one of them to shoulder his weapon; then I was staring down the barrel of a rifle,

 

“Why are you here?” I blinked a few times, eyes tracking from the gun to his deadly serious face before replying, “Humanitarian aid. I'd tell you I was sent here because Helix wants to help, but, truthfully, they're looking for a tax break.”

 

Those brown eyes gazed into mine for what felt like an eternity before he slung his weapon over his shoulder, “I appreciate your honesty and your employer’s gift.”

 

A pair of the guards relieved me of the hovering cart while the others tried to ply stories of the outside world from me, “Are we facing another Omnic crisis?” Was something I heard many times before the apparent leader ushered me through the gates, dismissing his fellows with an insistent wave.

 

Truthfully the camp felt more like a home than most cities I've been to. You could see the little touches from having so many people working on the same projects. The stitches on the tents where repairs were made, their techniques varying where others had made improvements or sewn. It was a simple town, nothing but sheet metal, tents, and scavenged Omnic parts made up every home within. You could smell the communal kitchen getting ready for dinner, the scent of traditional _Ghee*_ being prepared, while the echo of hammers on metal rang from their workshops. The air carried a chill to it that was muted by my thick clothing. Tendrils of cold still licked across my cheeks making me shiver.

 

I didn't have much time to explore that first day sadly. I was walked directly to the one brilliant white tent in the center of the town. A bright red cross was emblazoned on the front, as well as another two on the roof. Unlike the grey cloth or brown leather of those around it, this one was perfectly maintained. It looked as if not a day had gone by, like nothing had touched it despite the desert shifting all around it. I was snapped from my inspection by my escort's voice.

 

“Get checked out by the doctor. I'm going to go help distribute those goods, make sure no one goes squirreling them away for themselves.” He turned to walk away as I slipped between the flaps and into the fluorescent lighting of the medic's office. It was much bigger than it seemed. Almost two and a half meters tall, at least ten meters long and five wide.

 

The main room was nearly spotless, polished steel workbenches lining one wall with beds laid out in a grid.  The smell of antiseptic was heavy in the air, lightly accented with lavender, and the harsh glow of the overhead lights nearly blinding. There were boxes everywhere, under the frames holding up each mattress, on every inch of table and below them. They were labeled in what looked like German, though with the handwriting it might as well have been Latin. I didn't get too much time to admire the medic's... interesting skills with a pen before I found myself staring into the barrel of a pistol. Eyes almost crossed from the closeness of the weapon. “Who are you and why are you eyeing my medicines? You're clearly not hurt.” German accented English hit my ears, silky smooth, calling up a familiar face. Angela Ziegler. I'd never quite heard her speak in that tone but it was unmistakably her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A clarified butter made by simmering normal butter for about 20 minutes and skimming the impurities off the top, then disposing of the solids on the bottom. It's used for deep frying due to a higher smoke point than most vegetable oils.


	3. People and Time, the Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people we remember are often different when we see them once more. Sometimes change is for the better...

I looked past that tiny handgun to see an unforgettable face, just managing a small, stunned, “Dr. Ziegler...?” There she was. Bags under her eyes, hair a mess, but still herself. That prim, poised, and persistent woman who was always deep in thought. Even now, confronting a possible thief in the middle of the desert, she wore a small smile. Her deep blue irises flicked away from my brown ones as she set the weapon aside and leaned on a nearby table. One hand coming up to rub the back of her neck as she blushed ever so slightly, “Have we met...? I don't really associate with many...” Her eyes turned back to size me up yet again, “Mercenaries.” I stammered a few words, still trying to put my thoughts together. Angela Ziegler in the middle of the desert. Nothing can really prepare you to look an old friend in the face twenty years later. “You... knew my mother, Ana. It's Fareeha.” She froze, and this time she was speechless. Just gaping at me for a few seconds before standing up, hands reaching out and touching my face, squeezing my cheeks.

 

She turned away, mumbling to herself incredulously in german. Before brushing her hair out of her face and straightening her lab coat, returning her gaze almost to my own with renewed concentration. Her voice was shaking now, and so were her hands. Clutching at her forearms for stability as she struggled to focus on my face, eyes darting around the room. “What brings you here...?” I watched her closely, her shoulders slouching and front teeth biting into her lower lip. “Delivering goods, being loaned out for charity work. Unusual but not unheard of... Though... I didn't really expect to run into you again, Dr. Ziegler.” She let out a long sigh and smoothed her coat once more, finally meeting my eyes. “Good. I'm glad to hear you're helping people. Your mother would be proud of you.”

 

Then she laughed weakly, a sound halfway between stress and relaxation. “I half expected you to say something about a recall order...” I tilted my head, still oblivious to her feelings as I motioned to my hovering suitcase. My voice betrayed my excitement as I replied, “I wish! I'm actually here on orders from Helix to act as a protector for the town. They think it'll be good PR to go with the tax break from the supplies they sent.” Her expression fell to a neutral, detached stare, voice a bitter monotone as she spoke one word, “Oh...”

 

After a few moments I cleared my throat, nervousness creeping into my words. “Dr. Ziegler, the guards told me to get examined by you. Shall we get that out of the way?” She snapped from her reverie and gave a curt nod, “Yes, yes, set your bags down wherever  you wish and sit down on the bed over there.” Her tone was all business now. She had changed from the person I remembered. Watching this disheveled, anxious woman collect items from around the room put a tiny frown on my lips. The Dr. Ziegler I remembered was an optimist. A smiling, friendly face to those around her no matter the situation. I didn't know what to do or say, she seemed so far beyond me. So I just did as she asked and set my things out of the way before sitting down.

  
“Alright Fari-... Fareeha, I'm going to need you to lift up your top for the moment.” I shrugged, not thinking much of it as I pulled the simple hooded sweatshirt over my head. She gasped in shock as I set it aside, hands covering her mouth as she stared at my stomach. It took me a moment to stop looking around for the source of her surprise and put a hand over the scar that marred my abs... The source was a piece of burning shrapnel and my own stupidity. I'd misjudged the distance between a target and myself. I learned a painful lesson that day, and I had this oblong injury to remind me. Angela looked like someone had shot her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Her expression gradually shifted into one I’d never seen before. Those blonde brows furrowing as her lips pursed, disgust unmitigated by that normal, kindly, demeanor of hers. Her gaze meeting my own for but a moment as she booted up a small scanner and spat the phrase, “ _Deine Mutter würde dich schämen*_...” The soft, warm, yellow light of the device suffused my body as she turned her attention to the display. My skin being soothingly caressed by the gentle beams stood in stark contrast to the nausea building in the pit of my stomach. It felt as if she had peered into my soul and turned away in disgust...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Your mother would be ashamed of you."


	4. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha recovers from the disdain shown to her with a nap.  
> Quick note: I wrote this before the revelation about Angela visiting from college, but updated it to fit. Regardless, she's still the cool older friend to young Pharah... Don't make this weird, okay?

The rest of the exam passed in silence. I was caught up in my own thoughts and Angela in hers, interacting in rote, mechanical ways as our minds raced. 

Eventually she flicked off the beam and the chill of the winter air returned, “Ms. Amari you appear to be in perfect health.” That was all I got before she pocketed the device and began to walk off... 

Before I grabbed her wrist. “Angela... I don't understand... This should be a happy moment... Right...?” 

Her words struck me like a slug to the gut, “It should've been.” 

And then she was off, jerking herself free as if my hand was a binding she was desperate to free herself of. 

 

I was alone, the tent felt as if it were suspended in a void. Not knowing what to do I sat there, watching her leave and staring at where she'd gone for what felt like days. Then, in an instant, I was looking at my hands. They were trembling. The sound of metalwork from outside had vanished along with the scent of antiseptic, I couldn’t even feel the bed beneath me. 

My cheeks were slick and I felt like I'd swallowed a stone as something my mother told me echoed unbidden, “I pray you never know the feeling of seeing your family die.” 

Another snippet, the moment I'd been promoted. Watching my commander, my brother in arms, struggle to breathe in a pile of rubble, and leaving him there. It had been the right decision but... I’m giving myself a headache over things that can’t be changed. I pulled my boots off and laid back on the bed, resting my head on its pillow and staring up at the roof. The slight movement of the fabric in the wind drawing me out of my thoughts far enough to close my eyes and doze off into a fitful sleep.

 

I opened my eyes again, staring into the harsh fluorescence of the overhead lights. Blinking sleep from my eyes and standing up from my small cot as I give a big yawn and stretched out as I looked around. This definitely wasn’t the tent I’d gone to sleep in. My eyes ran over a table with a holographic globe projected over in the center of the room. Supplies lining shelves cut into the walls and a basketball hoop in the corner? This was the Orca? How’d I get here? They’d all been warehoused after Overwatch was shut down. I was snapped out of that train of thought by a quiet laugh from nearby, Angela’s voice reached my ears.

 

She was speaking in a breathy, flustered tone, “Genji…  _ Mein lieber freund _ you know I can tell when you’re frowning. There are so very many fish in the sea, and you’ve such skill with a rod. It would be a shame to tie yourself down so young.” 

I slipped over to the stairs leading up to the cockpit and poked my head around the corner. Dr. Ziegler was sitting up, hands folded in her lap and looking up at one of the screens that displayed the image of Genji’s mask. 

He tilted his head, somehow managing to sound incredulous despite the built in filters. “None of them make me feel the way you do… I don’t understand why. We get along well, you make me laugh, I make you smile… Isn’t that what romance is?”

Angela’s reply was gentle in tone and kind in its intention. “Well… I just… don’t feel that way about you. I will cherish the time we’ve spent together, and I hope you do too… Just…” 

She glanced back over her shoulder and I ducked back around the wall. Heart pounding out of my chest as I crossed my fingers, quietly praying to whomever could hear me that she hadn’t caught sight of me. “...A moment, please, Genji…” 

  
I looked down, blinking at the small nightdress I was wearing. Recognizing the pattern kicked a small revelation into gear, the white wings with a halo above them. I’d slept in this when I was still a girl, back when Angela had spent her vacations working with Torby. Hands smoothing out the wrinkles as I placed myself as quietly as possible onto one of the jumpseats and grabbed a book. 

I barely managed to get it open before Angela poked her head around the corner, “How did you sleep, little Farie?”

I blushed deeply and covered my face with the book, pretending not to hear. It didn’t take long for her to pull the text from my small hands and set it aside, sitting herself down on the briefing table and looking me in the eyes, smiling all the while. 

“You know… it’s impolite to eavesdrop,  _ liebchen _ .”

I turned a few shades darker and averted my eyes, “I didn’t mean to… I just woke up and didn’t want to interrupt…” 

She just giggled and ruffled my hair, “Well… how much did you hear?”

I bit my lower lip,  mumbling out, “Just you and Genji talking about romance, or something.” 

Her lips pursed and she leaned down, taking my chin in one hand and turning my head to face her. “Can you keep a secret, Fareeha?” 

I gave as much of a nod as the gentle touch allowed, “Yes ma’am!” 

Another quiet laugh. Her eyes glanced out the window as her hands fell down to the edges of the table. A wistful smile crossed her lips as she almost whispered, “I’ve always wanted a wife, not a husband.” That gaze swept back to me, features halfway relaxed with a nervous grin. “You keep that to yourself, okay?” I went to open my mouth and speak before I was wrenched back into the present by a sudden impact.


	5. An Average Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Fareeha Amari of Helix Security demonstrates how she earned that title while living up to the promise of her Wedjat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're squeamish about violence you may want to skip this chapter and the next one (5 and 6). You've been warned.

It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I was lying facedown on the floor of the medical tent. Footsteps bustling all around me, Angela’s voice shouting orders, and the smell of copper so thick I could taste it. I sprung up to my feet, grabbed my suitcase by the handle, and stepped outside. More raised voices, the oddly subdued whine of rapid fire ballistic weaponry, and chaos. Some ran for cover while others were arming weaponry and running towards the entrance of the camp. I kicked open my bag and carefully donned my armor. Piece by piece it was removed from the tightly packed container, visor still up as I assembled my launcher. 

Each bit dovetailed into one another snugly. The barrel lined with a pair of golden highlights on either side as well as a groove cut through the top to keep the propellant from overheating the metal. Next was the massive compensator, my fingers carefully clipping it onto the end of the weapon and tightening the inner ring until it clicked. People were kicking sand into my face and armor as they ran past, but my hands were steady as stone. I knew every centimeter of this weapon like my own body. A light flick dropped my visor before I clipped the two spare, six shot magazines I’d brought to my belt.  The last cylinder of rockets being dropped into the chamber and locked into place. The weight of my weapon was in my hands, the familiar feeling bringing calm even as gunfire and shouting rang out all around me. I took a moment to calibrate my display, the tiniest movements adjusting the settings until it was sensitive enough to highlight any moving objects. I couldn’t help but allow myself a wry smile. It looked like this assignment wouldn’t be as boring as I assumed.

  


With little thought I sprinted forwards, the wings of my suit spreading as I jumped and engaged the jets. A burst of fuel sending me skyward and giving a good view of the trucks that circled the camp. Simple hauling vehicles, retrofitted with one massive, Bastion-type cannon each. My scans kicking up an estimate of fifteen hostiles split between five vehicles. Say what you will about Helix but they built some fine machinery. I swiveled, matching the trajectories provided by my visor’s heads-up display and let loose. The first rocket detonated beneath the lead truck, its nose impacting against the sand, mangling everything into an unrecognizable amalgam of flesh and metal. The second blew the power core of the one trailing behind it, vaporizing the entire vehicle and its passengers in a cloud of crackling azure energy. Third shot, third hit, split the tail car in half at the cab. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gunner leap into the sand from the wreckage. 

By the fourth shot the gunners were taking their eyes off of the small town and sending fire my way. Their change of target came too late for the penultimate group. The shell missed but the driver overcompensated sending the truck into a spin, its makeshift turret swiveling out of control and sending hundreds of rounds through the occupants. The last one turned tail, fleeing as it loosed a spray of slugs in my direction. A tweak in my own jets, a flip of my body, and I dove under their initial burst. Lifting a hand I fired one of the concussive missiles from my wrist mounted launcher. The entire vehicle leaped into the air, sending the driver flying as its mounted weapon turned on me. My eyes widened and I twisted, evading the wild stream of bullets. The cracking of metal reached my ears as my final assailant's weapon went silent. I disengaged my jump jets letting myself fall most of the way back to the ground before flaring them to land softly where the gunner of the third had fallen. 

  


As I touched down I winced from a sharp pain in my shoulder, but there’d be time to address that later. For now I had a battlefield to survey, the last hostile might have survived his landing. I turned up the in-helmet microphones’ sensitivity to maximum, listening intently as I looked out over the wreckage. Between the crackling of flames and settling of metal I could hear labored breathing. Even from fifty meters off the Raptora could pick up their groans of pain. I followed those sounds on foot, not wanting the jets to spook my prey. When I finally caught sight of the injured raider I booted my pack up again. Lifting off the ground and shouldering my weapon, training the sights on the prone form. There was a blossom of crimson spreading out from their legs, though it was hard to see much more in the glare of the fires surrounding us. 


	6. Burning Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's impossible to be completely right. Saving some can mean harming others. Fareeha thought she understood the cost her mother paid to protect her squad, the price to protect her own allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're squeamish about violence you may want to skip this chapter and the next one (5 and 6). You've been warned.

I began to squeeze the trigger before freezing as I heard a voice, “Mom… dad…”

It was almost too quiet to pick up, even with my armor’s advanced systems, but there were the words. My mind kicked into overdrive and my breath caught in my throat. I flicked my safety on unthinkingly and let myself back down onto the ground only half a meter away.

 

They ripped their hands out of the sand, turning over and dragging themselves away. I grit my teeth as my armor played back every whimper of pain, every granule of sand pulling at their wounds, and the sobs of fear. Part of me wanted to shout to them I wasn’t going to attack, another thought it might’ve been kinder to simply fire one more time, but I didn’t. My muscles strained as I forced the Raptora to dig divots into the dunes to catch up. Tossing my weapon aside carelessly as I stood over their prone form; my clawed hands grabbed their shoulders and flipped them over.

 

I came face to face with a child no more than fifteen years old, staring into a pair of dark brown eyes and a face glistening with wetness in the light of the crackling flames surrounding us. Mucus trailed down from their nose and a scream slammed into my head like a mallet. My teeth grit and my lips curled back as I let out a growl of rage, vision growing blurry. I didn’t even register that tears were streaming down my own cheeks as I tucked my arms underneath them. Pulling them to my chest despite the calls for their parents and the fists pounding against the plating of the Raptora. Boots dug into sand and I took off sprinting towards the camp.

 

I ran past the guards, not paying their questions any mind as I went for the one person I knew I could trust. Panting for breath as adrenaline pushed me forth into the medical tent. Inside everything was falling into order. Angela was instructing others dressed in simple white linen coats on the basic treatments they were applying. The beds were all full, even the children’s… I opened my mouth, only to realize a moment later I wasn’t speaking.

Growling I forced the words at a low roar, my voice was hoarse and breathless, “Wounded!”

Dr. Ziegler’s eyes shifted up to me and she rushed over, trying for a moment to pry the bloodied child from my arms. I reluctantly handed them over, letting the far more qualified woman carry them into the back room as I followed. The back of the tent was a quaint little space, not much beyond a desk made of carefully treated scrap metal, a small nightstand and a queen sized mattress on a simple frame.

She set them down on the bed and asked the question I’d been dreading, “Where did you find them?”

I tried to find words to explain, “Dr. Ziegler… he… I…”

My words failed me as I watched her leave and return with a tray filled with tools, setting it on her nightstand and retrieving a set of scissors.

“Fareeha, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Her voice was stern, but it felt less venomous than the tone she’d addressed me with earlier. I put my hands to either side of my helmet, heaving for air, unmoving.

Angela began cutting off the patient’s shredded clothing as she shouted, “OUT! NOW!”

At her command I turned, wandering out of the room in a daze.

 

I stumbled out of the tent and stumbled to my knees, clutching at my stomach as I heaved. Listening to the sounds of my victim over and over in my mind as I struggled to get back upright between spasms of my stomach. Eventually I got myself sitting upright atop my knees, gazing up at the moon. Though all too soon I looked back to the Raptora’s gloves, streaked with a child’s blood. Protecting the innocent, I was the protector. Firing was the right thing to do. I’d saved my own life, and possibly a few more. None of these thoughts quelled the sobs beginning to tear themselves from my lips, or stayed the tears streaming down my cheeks.


	7. Part 2: A Doctor's Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets to work and our perspective shifts to follow her.

 

I pushed the wailing that surrounded me into the background, shoved the smell of every bodily fluid to the side, focusing on the work before me. Check pupillary response; dilating as well as can be expected. Administer painkiller to reduce patient’s movement, combine with minor sedative to combat reflexive twitching. Clamp the femoral artery in both legs, then tourniquet the rest of the veins off above damage. Apply cauterizing iron to missing digits to save time. Order nurse to transfuse 50/50 solution of serum and specialized nanite mixture.

 

Grab the scanner, calibrate, look for internal bleeding starting at the waist. _Scheisse*_. Scalpel, six centimeter incision to the stomach, spreader, clamp. Continue scan. Damaged sublavian. Scalpel, another cut, use fingers to save time, apply hemostatic agent. Grab shoulders, pin down until movement ceases, continue searching for wounds. There: weakening aorta. Slice, spread, add nanites to wall, test with a fingertip, move on. Find damage to carotid, cut into the skin, repair, continue. What happened to thi-- focus Angela! Identify injury, treat, repeat. That’s all you have to do. The hows and whys are for another day. There! Severe skull fracture, likely brain damage, treatment: shave area, long semicircular incision, spread open, clamp in place, use forceps to remove bone fragments, apply nanite solution, unclamp, stitch incision shut. No thread… Staple instead. Finish scan and assess patient.

 

Adolescent male, hasn’t hit puberty judging by physical characteristics. Phenotype marks him as a local. Scars between thumb and forefinger of right hand indicative of repeated instances of slide bite… Also right handed. No tattoos, birthmarks, or piercings. Fill out chart now that patient is stabilized.

 

“John Doe”

“Approximate age 10-14”

“Severe fragmentation trauma to entire body. Burst subclavian artery in right shoulder, limb nonfunctional, amputation from socket down likely necessary. Shredded tibial arteries in both legs, amputation below knee likely necessary. Weakened aorta above stomach, damage negligible, observation necessary. Punctured carotid, damage repaired, observation necessary. Complex skull fracture to right temple, damage unknown. Left hand missing index finger from palm, thumb from knuckle. Right hand missing all digits except thumb.”

“Patient brought in by Fareeha Amari who was dressed in a set of armor. Assume damage to patient was caused in defense of camp Zaranj-lezz. Commend Ms. Amari for not killing outright…”

 

I stopped and stared at that last sentence. “ _Commend Fareeha for not killing a child.”_ The words echoed through my mind before I scratched that part out and tried again to find the good in her actions.

 

“Commend Ms. Amari for not leaving patient behind.” Scratch that out.

“Commend Ms. Amari for saving the child she shot.” _Scratchscratchscratch._

“Commend Ms. Amari for protecting Zaranj-less from a child.” The page began to blur before my eyes and I reached up to wipe them, smearing blood across my face. I lowered my hand, cursing that moment of stupidity, and scratched the words out once more.

Something Ana said to me drifted through my jumbled thoughts, “A child soldier is still a soldier, Ms. Ziegler. Treating them as a hostile is a necessity, not a choice.” My shoulders sank and I gave a forlorn sigh.

 

“Commend Ms. Amari for empathy on the battlefield.” That would have to do. 

 

I set the chart down on my nightstand and turned my back to the child lying stitched together in my bed. As I stepped out into the main infirmary the sounds of the wounded grew in volume. The scent of bile, antiseptic, and iron filled my nostrils. My exhaustion was catching up with me; I hadn't slept well the night before. Half remembered dreams of torn flesh and shining metal still haunted me; days and nights just like this one where the shriek of gunfire and explosions signaled an end to peace. Some part of me hates the drive to heal others I carry. Why couldn't I look out for myself first? I had every opportunity to take a cushy research position at any facility I wanted when Overwatch shut down, but here I am trapped in the worst moments of other people's lives. 

Is it a curse or a blessing to help the sick and injured, knowing that there will always be more? Always more weapons of war, more patients, more victims, whether they be hurt by omnics, humans, or a cruel twist of fate. Lena loved to say that the world needs more heroes. I always hoped, in my naivete, that there might come a time where the world didn't need any more heroes. That eventually after enough blood was shed people might stop fighting. That maybe the next generation wouldn't have to struggle as much as we had to live peacefully. That no children would experience the loss I felt; the hole in their lives where their parents would be. 

I was a fool then and I probably still am now. I manage a smile at the thought of this utopia despite the tears in my eyes. No more war, no violence, enough food and water for every man, woman, and child. No more broken families. I snapped back to reality as I felt my sense of balance kick in, stumbling a few steps, having fallen asleep standing up. Just as suddenly as it had arrived, the peaceful moment vanished. The weight of the world I lived in crashed down upon me once more. My hands felt like they were made of steel as I struggled to lift them up, palms out towards the visitors who crowded every patient inside.

 

I cleared my throat and spoke up, trying to overcome the cacophony surrounding me despite my exhaustion. “Everyone who is not assisting me needs to leave. You can visit your friends and family in the morning, for now they need rest.” There were a few complaints, but most of the crowd dispersed within five minutes.

Waving the few assistants I'd conscripted over, I mumbled my orders through numb lips hidden behind a hygiene mask, "Make sure each patient's vital signs are checked once an hour, thirty minutes for the one in my room. If any of them change, come get me. I need some coffee..."

The front of my simple white sneakers dragged across the spattered floor as I left, creating trails of blackish red that followed me out into the cold night air. My eyes were half lidded to match the limp swing of both arms. I made it about halfway to the communal canteen before stubbing a toe on something half buried in the sand, sending me sprawling with a yelp of pain.

After a few curses and a generous cradling of that foot I turned my gaze to the offending object. Dragging the box out of the dune forming around it. The body was metallic blue and gold... Repulsion emitters on the bottom... Fareeha's? Helix Security logo on the lock. Definitely Fareeha's. Curiosity pushed me to open the hardcase, folding it open to get a good look at the interior. Recessed padding covered every inch, except for a panel on the inside. Blinking the sleep from my eyes I forced myself to focus on the words and diagrams painted onto it.

_Raptora Mark Six_  was the name; some kind of top of the line Helix tech, no doubt... The schematics were more complicated than I expected. Climate control, powered joints, systems that I was at a loss to even comprehend. Eventually I settled my eyes on a sizable jack installed in the plate behind the user's neck, aimed squarely at their spine. The reservoirs on the inside of the gauntlets with IV connections on either hand. These features fell neatly into place. The armor was wired directly to the wearer's brain to assist with flight and the bracers carried chemical payloads to be deployed in case of... My money was on injury. Some kind of adrenal to keep the soldier from noticing the pain, probably. If so this could make a soldier fight to the death without even realizing they were on the verge of keeling over.

I felt a pang of anxiety, calling up a mental image of the last time I'd seen Fareeha. She didn't look injured so I sent her away but... _Scheisse*_ I must find her.

I have to make sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shit


	8. Broken Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try not to panic. Deep breaths.

_Where is she?!_ Those words pounded in my ears like the staccato beat of a snare drum. They spilled past my lips whenever I ran across a group of people.

“Where is Fareeha?!”

Confused and unhelpful stares were all I got for my queries so on I ran, kicking up clouds of sand as I sprinted around the campsite. After five minutes of panicked running, having checked every structure within the walls, I slammed my toe into a metal surface. I cursed as tumbled onto the ground, clutching at my injured foot. Eyes screwed shut while I berated myself for not paying attention.

My train of thought was derailed by cold, blue and gold metal wrapping around my wrist. Sitting up I caught sight of Fareeha, clad in the Raptora, lying on her side. A small dune was starting to form against her backFingers wrapped around my wrist, blood dripping from the corner of her lips. My heart skipped a beat. The cacophony inside ratcheted up loud enough to drown out the world around me.

 

 _“I was right.”_ Words and phrases driving my anxiety to greater heights echoing within. _“It’s probably too late.” “What would Ana say?” “How could you let her leave?” “It’s all your fault!” “Another name for the list.” “How many patients have you lost now? Do you even remember?” “You failed her when she needed you most.” “Do yo--”_

The deep seated self loathing broke at the sound of Fareeha’s voice, “Angela… Is he…” She took in a shuddering breath, then coughed up a mouthful of her dark red essence. “Hngh… going to make it?”

I didn’t say anything to her. I just pried her grip from my wrist and tucked my arms underneath her own. I propped her up into a sitting position despite her sounds of pain. Then I lifted her in my arms; my joints popping and bones groaning under the strain of her weight, including what must’ve been a hundred pounds of armor.

I hugged her tight to my own body as I broke into a jog, heaving for breath from exertion. It must’ve taken a full three minutes to get her into the medical tent. I shoved concerned nurses away before my foot met the side of the least injured patient in the room, rolling him out of his bed.

_Screw him!_

 

I dropped Fareeha’s bleeding, armor-bound form onto the mattress as I called out, “Full trauma kit and two litres of nanite solution, STAT.” My hands fumbled for my scanner until I caught sight of the cause of her injury. Large caliber fire had caught a weak point between the chestplate and abdominals. I left the device where it was as I leaned over her and engaged the manual overrides by either armpit. The depressurization sequence moved at a crawl which I did my damndest to speed up. My fingernails clawed at the seals until they finally released and I flung the metal free.

 

There it was. There she was. Fareeha Amari bleeding out on my operating table. I could feel Ana’s presence next to me, the barrel of a phantasmal rifle pressed into my temple, “Save my girl, Angela.” No time for memories now. I turned to see a nurse, a short woman by the name of Fazela, holding up a surgical tray with the items I’d requested.

Snagging it by the edge, I set it down next to my patient and grabbed the prepared syrette of morphine. I went to inject her and Fareeha slapped it away, eyes swimming with pain as she managed to rasp out, “No… might be last… moments. Want to be… lucid…” between wheezing gasps for air.

I didn’t miss a beat at her insistence, just grabbing the next instrument. I cut in just above the injury, then leveraged the incision open with a spreader. Next, I took up a length of tubing and slipped it in through the gap. Punctured lung, obvious hemothorax, drain, transfuse, operate, repeat as necessary. You’ve done this a thousand times.

 

While her breathing stabilized I watched the color drain from her face. Willing my hands to be steady as I stuck an IV into her arm. Hooking her up to a steady drip of nanites and blood would help for now.

_But is a killer really worth the res-- No. No Angela, you can’t think like that. Not now, not about her._

 

This time I went in through the injury with a glob of hemostatic agent smeared across a gloved finger. Flying blind was never smart but this time it would be a good start. I used my middle digit as a guide while the index followed along, tracing each major vein to the damaged lung. Hmm… no… no… There it is. Ragged edge, liquid pushing back against my touch, bingo. Biting into my lower lip, I forced that searing solution into the wound. Free hand pressing down on Fareeha’s shoulder as she stiffened up. She managed to let out a scream of agony, which was a serious improvement from moments ago.

 

I rolled my fingertip around against that damaged flesh until I couldn’t feel fresh blood push back. Internal bleed stopped, fluid draining from her lung, color returning to her face… Good. A sigh left my mouth as I pulled my hands free and sat down next to her. Resting on the edge of the bed with sweat dripping down my face. My vision was blurry from perspiration running into my eyes as I looked up to Fazela with a tired smile.

 

A sudden touch brought my gaze back to Fareeha, her hand was cupping my chin. One dark fingertip swiping away what must’ve looked like tears, “Thank you, Angela. I…” She trailed off, glancing over at the nurse who scurried off at the look. Leaving us alone save for the other patients, most of whom were either pretending to sleep or sitting up watching. “I thought I was going to die there…”


End file.
